In an ultimate twist of irony, I found myself closer to that family than I could have ever imagined. My best friend and college roommate, Dakota, was currently the live-in girlfriend of Braxton Slate, Jaxon’s younger brother. As luck would have it, Braxton was the spitting image of his older brother, so my bestie was dating a version of the man I’d crushed on for most of my adolescent years.
The best part? She hated athletes.
I loved Dakota with my whole heart; she was the sister I never had—we were that for each other, both of us being only children. But I couldn’t help but lament the role reversal we’d found ourselves in. She was dating the up-and-coming hockey star, and I was the one swearing off athletes.
That’s right. I was done with hockey boys.
Well, at least when it came to dating them. I couldn’t give them up altogether, as I’d spent the summer landing the job that had me moving to Indy.
With a degree in journalism, specializing in sports media, I was the newest member of the traveling press pack for the Indianapolis Speed hockey team, reporting for the Indy Sports Review. It was hard enough for women to make a name in sports journalism—a primarily male-dominated field—so I couldn’t afford to ruin my credibility by sleeping with a player, even if I wasn’t nursing a broken heart from the last one.
Indy might seem like an odd choice of location, considering I grew up mere hours away from the media capital of the world, New York City, but I was just starting out in my career. Until I was more established, I couldn’tafford to be picky about job offers. A spot in the permanent press pack was a big deal, especially for a woman, so I’d have been a fool to turn it down, regardless of the city.
It also didn’t hurt that Dakota had moved out there a year ago after Braxton was traded from the Comets to the Speed. There would be a friendly face at home and on the road as I gained my bearings. It made my decision to accept the job a no-brainer.
I was determined to get a fresh start and focus on myself for once.
As I pulled up to the two-bedroom ranch I’d chosen to rent after doing a video tour with a realtor, a smile tugged at my lips when I saw Dakota and Braxton waiting on the front porch.
Dakota spotted my car first, jumping up and running to the curb as I parked. I didn’t even have a chance to grip the door handle before she flung it open from the outside.
“I can’t believe you live here now!” She pulled me into a hug so tight it threatened to crack a rib.
When she let me go, I took a deep breath before teasing, “Well . . . A little birdie told me some famous author lives in these parts, and I’m hoping I can run into her at the local coffee shop. Maybe teach her a few things about her next hockey romance. Accuracy is paramount, you know.”
Dakota laughed. That author was her.
While I’d ventured into journalism, she had chosen the path of fiction. And not just any fiction—steamy, sexy books that always ended with a couple who were head-over-heels in love. My bestie knew how to writeword porn, and I was so damn proud of her. It didn’t hurt that I was the one who suggested she venture into sports romance—hockey in particular—and that the book she wrote as a result became her first bestseller. It was also what led her to Braxton. Me dragging her to a hockey house party for “research” was how she met him. He happened to be Nix’s roommate at the time.
Joking right back, Dakota mused, “Hmm, maybe my next one will be about the reporter falling for someone on the team.”
I groaned. “Not going to happen.”
“I feel like I’ve heard something along those lines before.” She tapped her chin, pretending to think. “I’ll never fall for an athlete. They’re the scum of the earth . . .” That was a subtle reference to her prior opinions on dating a player.
Heaving out a sigh, I grumbled, “Maybe you were onto something.”
Dakota lifted a shoulder. “I think we both know how wrong I was. Hannah might have been onto something when she said Nix was yourstarter player. They’re not all bad. Took me far too long to realize it.”
I folded my arms over my chest. “You’re right. They’re not all bad. But most times, they’re not looking for a commitment, and it’s not worth messing up my position adjacent to the team.”
She held her hands up in surrender. “Okay. You win. Bristol is swapping out her bunny ears for pencil skirts and unbiased reporting. Got it.”
If there was anyone who could pull me out of this post-breakup funk, it was Dakota. The past year spent without her had been rough, and maybe that was why I pressed for more than Nix was ever willing to give. Because I was lonely. Before she moved to Indy, I had a companion on nights Nix was busy—or with another woman. Then suddenly, it was just me in our rental house, and too much time alone with my thoughts turned out to be dangerous.
Braxton rounded my trunk, and I stepped into his arms for a hug. He smiled down at me when we separated. “Welcome to the Speed, Miss Cooper.”
Rolling my eyes, I batted at his shoulder. “Oh, God. Don’t call me that. Makes me feel like I’m thirty-five instead of twenty-three. And you can tell the rest of your teammates I expect to be on a first-name basis.”
He gave me a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I scoffed playfully.
Braxton was arguably the sweetest guy I’d ever met, and he treated my best friend the way she deserved. Dakota was right when she said not all players were bad. She’d managed to snag one of the good ones. They were coming up on two years together, and even though he hadn’t gotten down on one knee yet, it was coming—and soon. In fact, I’d helped him pick out the ring. It wouldn’t be a surprise to anyone, least of all Dakota, considering he’d told her of his plans for their future on their first official date. They were perfect for each other.
“So . . .” Braxton eyed the packed backseat of my car. “When do the movers get here?”
Checking my phone, I saw the text from the truck following not far behind me from Hartford. “About thirty minutes, give or take.”
